Chapter 4

When the Moon is Gone and We've Reached Our End

Wanda woke up shivering. It was beginning to brighten outside, and the sounds of her neighbours waking up and cooking breakfast forced her to shake off her tiredness. She had slept very badly, only drifting off for a few brief hours before now, and had kicked off all of the covers in her broken sleep. She dragged herself out of bed and wandered aimlessly to the kitchen. Toast. Butter. Tea. Nothing seemed very important right now, and she could hardly even taste the food as she ate it. She changed her clothes. Brushed her hair. Watched TV. Her head began to ache, and she realised the reason her cabin was so cold was because the central heating was acting up. She threw on another jacket.

Wanda was in the middle of reading a dusty old encyclopedia when her heart skipped a beat. There was a knock on the door. Then another. Wanda stayed perfectly still, hands shaking slightly. She remembered the call last night. The stupid call she had made to Vision. Surely he couldn't have tracked her down? Her blood ran ice cold. What if it was something even worse? Had someone seen her use her powers to crumple up the phone? The booth was made of glass, for crying out loud! How could she have been so stupid?!

"Wanda, you up? I'm freezing my ass off out here." Her blood pressure dropped. Her hands stopped shaking. Her paranoia had hit a record high. Of course it would be Sam. He was staying right across from her. She pulled the door open with a flick of her wrist, not bothering to get up. He stepped in quickly, stamping the snow off of his boots and shutting the door with a slam. He continued to shiver. "Damn. Why is it so cold in here?"

"The heating is acting up. What have you got there?" Sam flicked a brown paper bag across the coffee table. Wanda flicked her wrist, and red tendrils grabbed the bag and brought it over to herself. Cinnamon cookies. "Where did you get these?" Wanda asked as she instantly took a bite. They were still warm. Delicious.

"A Swiss guy came to my door selling them. Bought a whole bunch, because…cookies, right? Sadly, I discovered I don't like cinnamon…" he wandered through her cabin, pulling open her press and raiding it of its biscuits. He stopped by the heater, which was ice cold. "You might want to get this sorted out. It's freezing in here…My cabin only has one bed, but if you want I guess I could sleep on the couch…" Wanda shook her head at his offer. She knew he was only trying to be friendly, bringing her cookies and offering to share his cabin with her, and she couldn't help but notice the relieved look he tried to hide when she declined his offer. Her feelings were not hurt. She understood his desire for privacy. After months of constantly having at least one person with you at all times, it was a relief to have some time in solitude. Wanda declined for the exact same reason. He nodded, heading back to the door. "Be sure to call over if you need anything. I'm gonna scoot over to the bar I saw on the way in. God knows I need a drink. Wanna come?" Wanda scoffed.

"Sam, it's not even nine yet!" Sam shrugged, a playful smile adorning his lips.

"It's all good. My body is still working on American time."

Wanda scoffed. "Don't get drunk. Drunk men cannot be trusted to keep big secrets," she called after him playfully. He pulled a serious face, his eyes twinkling.

"I'll try not to." With that, he was gone, and Wanda was on her own again.

Wanda had forced herself to make a decision that night. And she had. She was going to tell Vision the truth. She couldn't see him anymore. No more fluffy couple activities, no more cooking together. No more hugging and kissing and holding each other until they fell asleep. It had to end, as all good things do, because it was cruel and unfair to keep it going. Selfish. Vision was not an eternally faithful dog to be dragged from location to location. He was his own person, with his own life to live. Perhaps it would have been easier if Vision felt the same way, but Wanda knew that he didn't share her opinion. She knew he would follow her to the ends of the earth, awaiting her every need. He wouldn't understand why she didn't want him around. He would simply think that Wanda was finished with him, love story over, the end. Over before it even started.

That was the plan, anyway, but there was one tremendous flaw in Wanda's plan… she simply couldn't just turn her feelings for him off. She couldn't even dial them down. When she woke up, his arm was still resting across her waist. His synthetic heart still drummed its rhythm into her back. He was still there, and as far as he was concerned, he wasn't going anywhere. She had practised all through the night what she would tell him. What her excuse would be. She couldn't find the words. She wouldn't. That would mean accepting the end, the inevitable. It was easier to run away. But she couldn't pull a disappearing act, surely. How tremendously cruel would that be? He wouldn't understand, even if she left him a measly note. It was uncaring. It was pathetic. It was merciless.

It was necessary.

Her spirit plummeted as soon as her hand left his. Ribbons of scarlet wrapped around his arm, shifting it off of her waist and onto the empty sheets by his side. She held her breath as she reached for her still-packed rucksack, and she pinched herself to stop her from turning around. He was an incredibly light sleeper, and it was a miracle (although a cruel one) that he was still unconscious. She twisted the lock soundlessly, and pulled open the door. She wanted desperately to peer into his thoughts one last time, perhaps leave a message that way, but she couldn't risk waking him up.

'Don't look back,' she begged herself in her mind. Wanda was enhanced, but she was still human, and if there is one thing to be noted about humans, it's that they're weak and lonely. They crave affection. They need love. She shut the door slowly behind her, and clamping her hands over her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks, she bolted.

Had she stayed a moment longer, had she reached into his thoughts like she had longed to, she would have found her answer for sure. His thoughts were complex and programmed, something Wanda had to work through (with his permission, of course). They usually required sorting, analysing, organising. Now, each frame was the same.

His thoughts consisted solely of her.

She had moved around the city for a further four days before Natasha called on her. She mentioned nothing, and the older woman kept her opinions to herself. She had been placed with Natasha in Oklahoma for three days before Nat felt too observed by a man that seemed to be following them. She refused to allow Wanda to root through his mind, due to the close range and obvious visual power that would entail, so they met up with the entire team of runaways in Italy instead. They stayed for three weeks.

"I told you you'd wish for more alone time, didn't I?" Nat offered, leafing through a torn, yellowed book from the hotel bookshelf. Tensions rose often between the group, and right now Sam and Steve were tossing bitter comments between each other over breakfast. Oddly, this was comforting. When she was alone, in the silence, she was forced to come to terms with what she did. Who she had hurt. She regretted not leaving a note, even if time wasn't on her side. She should have had the courage to tell him face to face, seeing as she had chosen their spot deliberately to feel closer to him, and had given him nothing but ideas of courtship and romance when he had arrived. She cringed every time she remembered the lengths he had taken to find her, to get to that particular hotel. The trouble Nat had gone to in order to send him that message. He had bothered to find her after she had thrown him through the floor, after she had caused him to let his guard down and shoot down the wrong man. She had dragged him into something he never wanted to be a part of, even if she was dragged into it as well.

What would life be like if she never left? Not just the hotel room, but the base? When Clint came to collect her, and Vision tried to stop him, what if she just said 'no'? She wouldn't be on the run. She would be with him, even if it meant letting Clint down, and those who had been on her side throughout the controversy of the accords. She could be cooking with him right now, or training. She would have to endure Tony, a man who seemed to see her as a weapon first, human second. Maybe she should have done that. Maybe for once, she should have stayed still, thought things through, instead of running off. Maybe her life would be better.

But could she live with herself? Could she sit by and watch Steve and Clint run into fire, a fire caused, even in the most indirect way, by her? Would Steve and Bucky even get to the jet had she not cleared the way for them? Would she be able to sleep at night knowing that Clint, Scott and Sam were locked up in some prison, knowing that she did nothing to help them? In Sokovia, on that fateful day before her brother lost his life and she had lost a piece of her soul, Clint had been there for her, even as the city fell around them. Pietro was the brave one. He was whizzing about saving lives outside while she hid, scared and ashamed, in a crumbling building. She couldn't bring herself to go outside. This was her fault – she had caused this. She had aided a monster in global destruction. She was a monster.

"It's your fault, it's everyone's fault, who cares?" he had told her. She had fought against him and his team. Conspired to kill him. Tried to rip apart his mind. He was still looking out for her. "It doesn't matter what you did or what you were. If you go out there, you fight, and you fight to kill. You stay in here, you're good. I'll send your brother to come find you." He didn't force her to put her life on the line, just like he didn't force her to follow him to the airport that day. She may have been influenced, but she made that decision on her own. Looking back on what could have been was pointless, and unnecessary. She had made the right choice. She had done something that she had believed in. She made a difference. Life was hard now, but she lived her truth.

"If you step out that door, you are an Avenger."

She wasn't a coward. She wasn't a monster. She just had to start believing that herself.